Behind the kitchen in the corner was the sizable bathroom, complete with an inviting octagonal shower. The one closet just outside of the bathroom housed a stacked washer and dryer.
On the right side of the cabin, just inside the entryway, was a sunken living room with a cozy fireplace and cushy sofa. A bedroom in the back right corner held an enormous bed with a thick down comforter.
Rome smiled at the thought of spending time here, in this haven, with Harper, even if it was for just a day or so.
“C’mon in,” he said, sweeping his arm in a grand gesture, instantly regretting it when a dull twinge trickled up his forearm. Was there any place on his body that didn’t hurt? Strange. He’d never let anyone see his pain before, but in front of Harper, he didn’t feel the need to be so damn tough. She never doubted he was.
She had to have the same draining aches, if not worse ones than he did. He knew by now she wasn’t the type of gal to really worry about pretense. And he very much appreciated that right now.
“I had the power turned on when I called,” Rome said, closing the door behind her after she dropped the two bags on the sofa. He tossed the key on the island and moved to the wall to turn on the lights.
“Does that mean there’s hot water?” Harper asked hopefully.
“It should.” He chuckled. Honestly, as much pain as he was in right now, he had almost told her she’d have to wait until he was done with the shower to find out. Damn manners. “Go ahead. There should be plenty of towels in there. I’ll get the rest of our stuff.”
He left her inside and walked out to the car to bring in the rest of their supplies and the laptop. And a gun from the small but effective arsenal kept under the hood in a hidden compartment.
After gathering what he needed, he slammed the hood shut, then returned to the cabin to find Harper stooping by the fireplace, arranging some kindling around a couple of logs.
Her filthy jeans were pulled taut against her firm thighs and rear. Admiring her curves, as dirty as she was, he easily remembered the feel of her grinding against him. The perfect way she fit in his arms. The wetness of her mouth.
A spark snapped and he nearly jumped out of his skin. She had struck a match and was lighting the fire. How was it possible that he was very close to collapsing, but he wanted her with a hunger he’d never tasted?
Rome watched her poke the fire around, then stand and turn to warm her backside. She rubbed her forearm, something he’d noticed her do in the car as he had floated in and out of consciousness. Walking over to stand in front of her, he gently clasped her arm and held it up for his inspection.
She flinched as he peeled apart the fabric of her sliced coat. Looking inside the flaps, he saw a sweeping gash, maybe two inches long. Prodding it with his fingertips, relief warmed him as he saw it wasn’t deep. She wouldn’t even need stitches.
As a matter of fact, as he peered a little closer, he noticed the skin was already closing.
He glanced up from her wound, questioning her with his gaze. A chagrined expression graced her lovely face. They’d stopped at a gas station restroom to wash off the obvious blood, but he’d been in so much pain himself, he hadn’t even noticed her serious injuries. Or lack of them. Sure, she had scratches, but now that he looked closely, those were healing, too.
“Pretty handy, huh?” Harper half grinned. He couldn’t tell whether she was happy about it or not. But he was ecstatic. Hot damn, she could self-heal at record pace. Wasn’t that a good thing? A great thing?
“Harper,” he whispered, raising her hand to brush his lips across her lightly scraped knuckles.
She shifted her hand out of his grasp and placed her palm against his cheek. Her touch comforted him like hot chocolate with marshmallows, warming him from the inside.
He couldn’t help himself and leaned in to capture her lips in a much-needed kiss. But his audible wince made her pull back. Damn those bastards.
“Rome, we need to check you out.” Harper took his hand, and he allowed her to lead him to the huge bathroom. Why would he want to fight it, anyway?
He noticed the tremble in her touch and wondered whether she was scared. Scared about things her body was doing without even trying. Hell, he’d kill for her newest power right now. He stood still while she turned on the bright light and faced him with suffering in her eyes.
“Harper, I think I’ll live.” Rome gave her a reassuring smile and took both of her trembling hands in his, holding them loosely. “I think you will, too.” He wanted so much to believe that.
Harper lowered her head and gripped his hands tight. She held on for a long moment. He tried to think of something to say that would make the raw tension in her body go away. Then she let go and moved her hands under his coat to rest on his shoulders.
“Apparently I will live,” Harper said, her voice a little stronger as she lifted her head and slipped his coat off. “For now. But let’s just make sure about you.”
He heard the soft thud as the garment hit the tiled floor, and her surprised gasp. He looked down at himself, seeing what all the fuss was about. His T-shirt was liberally ripped and had a few slices on the side from a bullet’s graze. He wasn’t sure whether that had happened while on the bike or in the facility. The pain had just kind of run all together.
Strong hands pulled at the hem of his T-shirt, drawing it out of the waistband of his jeans. The fabric brushed against his bruised skin as she pulled it up and over his head.
Another loud gasp reached his ears, and then she whirled away from him to open the shower door and turn on the water.
A light film of dried sweat coated his skin, and angry red marks dotted his rib cage, just waiting to color and bruise. Sticky smudges of blood were caked in some of the hair on his chest.
On his right side, he saw the ruptured flesh from the gunshots that had ripped through his clothing and grazed his body. Luckily, he’d twisted the right way at the right time to avoid the lethal fire. The bleeding had long since stopped, but the skin was torn on the surface and tingling. It definitely looked worse than it was. He hoped she saw that, too.
“I don’t know much in the way of dressing gunshot wounds,” she said, rallying, as she turned around to face him after she checked the water’s temperature with the back of her hand. “But, I do know that a hot shower always makes the aches go away.” Sweeping her hand toward the burgeoning steam billowing from the open shower, she gave him a saucy wink and stepped toward the bathroom door to leave him. “At least it does for me.”
“Then why don’t you join me?” That damn wink had made his stomach flip.
Her eyes hooded slightly, and she gave him a low, throaty chuckle in response as she pulled the door shut behind her, leaving him alone among the warm vapors.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Damn, the woman knew how to flirt. She knew how to kiss, too. He wondered whether he’d ever get to find out just how much else she knew how to do.
Shaking his head and chuckling, he unwrapped the brand-new bar of soap on the counter. Rome removed the rest of his clothes, a few grunts escaping with the effort, and stepped inside the hot shower. He closed the steamed-up door, sealing the hazy heat within the eight high walls of glass.
Standing completely still, he reveled in the constant torrent of hot water raining down onto his beaten body. He lathered the fresh-scented bar of soap in his hands and then ran it across his solid chest and abdomen, stinging his cuts.
But Harper was right. The aches and pains seemed to flow down the drain like the frothy bubbles from the soap, reviving his strength and clearing his head. He turned slow circles in the wide stall, soaping every inch of skin, and then just allowed the water to rinse it away.